


no need to search that mirror for the years

by sarahcakes613



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Art, Artist AU, Background Rita/Amanda, F/F, First Meetings, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Meet-Cute, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: In a world where your reflection is not of yourself, Sonny and Amanda are artists who specialize in painting portraits so people know what they really look like.Bingo fill for "Reflection in the mirror is the appearance of your soulmate".
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr. & Amanda Rollins, Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38
Collections: Barisi Soulmate Bingo, MforPaul's Fanworks Baby Shower!





	no need to search that mirror for the years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mforpaul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mforpaul/gifts).



> I was writing this for the August 2020 bingo around the time that this collection for Maxi was announced and I thought it fit some of the vibes she was interested in. I hope you like it, and congratulations on your tiny human!

It’s a perfect early-summer day. The skies are clear, the sun is out, it is a mild 72 degrees with just enough of a breeze to wave a flag, but not enough to send Sonny’s easel cartwheeling down the promenade. It’s the kind of day that makes a person want to walk hand-in-hand with their soulmate.

All of this to say, it’s a good day to be in the business of sidewalk portraiture, which Sonny is.

Sonny had drawn his first portrait when he was just nine, with one of his father’s grease pencils; a slightly out-of-proportion but not wholly inaccurate replication of his sister Gina on scrap paper. She’d cried, because she’d been so sure she would have freckles like her soulmate.

He felt bad for his older sister, but he kept drawing, and eventually it became apparent that he was actually really good at this and maybe he could make a career out of it. He’d started close to home, setting up under a canopy at his church’s annual rummage sale, offering portraits for donations to the church pantry.

When he’d told his parents halfway through his senior year that he’d applied to art school, neither of them were very surprised. They were more surprised when he told them it was in Queens, nearly an hour away, and he’d decided to move into a sublet in Brooklyn in order to halve his commute.

His first year flies by, partly because he is enjoying his classes and partly because of his best friend Amanda, whom he meets on his first day. He is drawn to her smile from across the room, and spends more time sketching her face than listening to the professor read from the Foundation Design syllabus.

He approaches her after class, careful to keep his distance, not wanting to weird her out more than he’s about to. He hands her the drawing, carefully pulled from his notebook.

She looks at it, and then up at him, uncomprehending.

“It’s you,” he says, and then, “I’m Dominick, but you can call me Sonny.”

She shakes his proffered hand.

“I’m Amanda. Don’t call me Mandy. Is that really what I look like?” Her voice has a Southern lilt to it, raising up as she asks her question.

“Yeah, well, I mean, I didn’t put any colour in it, but yeah.”

“Sonny, this is really cool, thank you. I’ve drawn lots of other people but I’ve never had someone draw me before.”

“Same!” He says enthusiastically. “I’ve been doing this for years, but the best I ever got from someone else was when my little sister drew a stick figure with blue eyes.”

She considers him for a moment, then drags him down to the quad where she directs him to sit in a patch of dappled shade. An hour later he is looking at his own face, drawn in stunning pastels.

He studies it, seeing hints of features that he recognizes from his sisters and his parents.

“Huh.” He says.

“What?” Amanda asks.

“I mean, I know opposites attract and all, but my soulmate and I really look nothing alike.”

“What do they look like?” Amanda asks, and then offers, “Mine’s older than me. Imagine lookin’ in the mirror when you’re just a kid and you already see acne.”

Sonny laughs. “I don’t gotta imagine, that happened to me too! He’s got really dark hair, and he’s tanned, with these vivid green eyes.”

“You ever try drawin’ him?”

“Yeah, of course. I can never seem to get it right, though. I’ll know him when I see him, I guess.” It’s frustrating, not being able to translate the reflection in his mirror onto paper, but whenever he tries it’s like his hands and the paper are on the other side of a foggy glass from his eyes and the features all blur together.

That afternoon begins a fast and tight friendship, and it makes sense to both of them to move in together the summer after their sophomore year. They supplement their student loans by applying for – and being granted – a city permit to set up a small sidewalk portrait stand outside the Bronx Zoo.

Six years, two BFAs and one brief hiatus when the city was repaving the road later, their portrait stand is still up and running from late April til as late into October as they can stand it. They’ve made a pretty good name for themselves on Instagram as local go-to artists for anyone who wants to know what their soulmate sees in the mirror.

And today, with the weather as good as it is, there are lot of those. Amanda picked a hell of a day to come down with a stomach bug, but Sonny is all sympathy and he’s promised to pick up some soup on the way home for her, just as soon as he finishes with his last client of the day. On busy days like this, when the paths to and from the zoo are bustling, they implement a numbered ticket system that Sonny switches off as soon as it spits out number thirty.

Today’s lucky number thirty today is a vaguely middle-aged woman. Sonny’s no good at guessing ages but he thinks she’s probably around his sister Theresa’s age, maybe ten years older than him. She’s got long dark honey hair, hazel eyes, and a wry smile, which she directs at him as he asks her to tell him about herself.

He finds it helps his drawings sometimes if the model is talking about themselves. It gives their portraits character, personality.

“Well, I just turned 35 and my mother asked me when I was going to get serious about settling down, so there’s that.” She says as she perches on the model’s stool.

Sonny grimaces in understanding. “Yeah, I know that one,” he comments as he starts lightly sketching the shape of her eyes. “You done any searching?”

“I’ve got a description up on a couple of the bigger soul-search communities,” she nods. “But it’s amazing anyone finds anyone on those sites with how vague it all is. I probably have as much chance of running into her on the subway as on soulmates dot com.”

Sonny laughs, and they chat idly about the weather, work, how Sonny became a portraitist and how she has just switched from working as a criminal prosecutor to working as a criminal defence attorney.

“My best friend thinks I’ve sold my soul to the devil,” she laughs. “But I think he’s just jealous because my office has a nicer view.”

“A good view can soothe a lot of unease,” Sonny agrees, gesturing out at the expansive view they have of the zoo grounds. Even without being able to see the animals themselves, it’s greenery as far as the eye can see.

When Sonny finishes his drawing he snaps a photo of it for the ‘gram before turning the easel to face his client.

She studies it for a few minutes, her hand lifting to trace the features on her face that she is seeing on the paper. She’s quiet, but he can tell by the set of her mouth that she’s pleased.

As she is leaving with her portrait carefully rolled and placed into a cardboard tube, she hands him her business card.

“Just in case,” she shrugs. “You never know when you may need the devil’s help.”

He tucks the card into his wallet and then forgets about it as he packs up and heads home for the day. He doesn’t remember it until after dinner, when Amanda shouts so loudly he thinks she’s seen a mouse.

“What?!” He hollers back at her when she screeches his name from down the hall.

She runs into his bedroom, thrusting her phone in his face. It’s open to their Instagram account, @soulportraits_nyc, and she’s pointing a shaking finger to his newest post, his last client from that day.

“Who is she?” Amanda asks, and her voice is insistent. “Sonny, please tell me you got a name.”

“Yeah, yeah, hang on, she gave me her business card,” He pulls his wallet out and roots around for the business card. When he finds it, he holds it out to her, tucked between two fingers.

“What’s the big deal, anyways, she owe you money or somethin’?” He asks, lifting his hand at the last minute so she has to lunge for the card.

She glares at him and swipes the card hard enough that he can feel a papercut occur as it slides from his fingers. He pouts, sucking his finger into his mouth.

“No, you ass, she’s my reflection.”

“No shit?”

She chickens out on calling, but after some encouragement from Sonny, she sends Rita a text with a selfie. Her phone rings less than a minute later and she nearly throws it across the room, but manages to hold herself together long enough to answer it.

She spends the rest of the night in her bedroom and Sonny can hear her still chattering away when he goes to bed a few hours later.

Amanda feels better in the morning, and Sonny teases her about the three outfit changes she’d made before finally deeming herself ready to go to work. Rita wants to meet her, and she’d been so pleased with Sonny’s art – and it’s result – that she’s bringing her best friend today so that Sonny can draw his portrait as well.

It’s cooler today, but still sunny, and the day passes in a haze of faces until late afternoon, when Amanda’s phone chimes with a text from Rita, who is on her way.

Amanda is jittery, smoothing her hand over her ponytail repeatedly for something to do. It’s weird to see this side of her, Sonny’s seen her flirt shamelessly to get them free drinks, he’s seen her act like a tipsy fool only to straighten up soberly just in time to kick frat boy ass at the pool table, but he’s never seen her _nervous_.

“Oh shit, there she is.” Amanda utters in a stage whisper, clutching Sonny’s arm. He shakes her off gently and pushes her out from under the canopy.

“Hi.” She says, and Sonny rolls her eyes at how breathy she suddenly sounds.

“Hi, Amanda.” There is an awkward handshake-or-hug moment and then Amanda throws her anxiety into the wind and goes for it, throwing her arms around Rita, who squeaks before melting into the hug, her own arms wrapped around Amanda’s neck.

Her friend is hanging back, waiting for the moment to be over. Sonny can’t make out his features, backlit as he is by the sun. When the hug finally ends, Rita waves her arm expansively to introduce everyone.

“Sonny, Amanda, this is Rafael Barba, Brooklyn’s finest prosecutor and the angel on my shoulder. Sonny, I hope you don’t mind if I steal Amanda away for a bit?” She turns to Amanda. “I thought maybe we could walk around the zoo a bit, get some coffee?”

“Penal code 135.20,” her friend says mildly. “You’ve been opposition for a month and already you’re breaking the law.”

Rita rolls her eyes and explains to a confused Sonny and Amanda, “Kidnapping in the second degree. And it’s not, because I’m not restraining her or hiding her away where she can’t be found.” She eyes Amanda. “Although, I suppose restraints could be something we talk about.”

Sonny’s not even a part of this conversation and he can feel a blush creeping up his neck. As the two women walk away, he turns his attention to the other man, talking to him as he sets up a fresh sheet on his easel.

“So, prosecutor, huh? I bet you see some pretty heinous stuff.”

Rafael doesn’t reply, and Sonny looks up. His breath catches in his throat as Rafael has moved out of the sun and under the canopy, and Sonny can make his features out clearly.

Really dark hair, tanned, vivid green eyes. Eyes that are staring at him, open wide, and Sonny feels pinned in place.

“You’re – “

“Holy shi – “

They both begin speaking and then fall silent at the same time.

“You’re taller than I expected.” Rafael states, running his eyes up the length of Sonny.

Sonny wants to protest that he isn’t that tall, Rafael is just short, but he doesn’t think pointing it out would be likely to win him any favours.

“Uh, sorry?”

Rafael shrugs, moving closer to him. Standing right in front of Sonny, he has to tilt his head back to look Sonny in the eyes.

“Don’t be, it’s not a complaint.”

“Oh,” says Sonny, and then, “um, okay, good. Do you eat?”

Rafael arches an eyebrow at him and Sonny flushes.

“I mean, have you eaten? We could get dinner?”

“Sure.” Rafael agrees amiably.

Sonny packs up his supplies and they begin walking down the boulevard. As they walk, Sonny’s arms swing lightly, his elbow occasionally bumping against Rafael’s. He keeps looking down at the place where they are nearly touching and then back up at Rafael’s face, which is set in neutral expression, although Sonny notices his eyes sliding over to look at Sonny every time he looks away.

They pause to wait for a traffic light to change, and Sonny feels the backs of their hands knocking together. He holds his breath, nudging his pinky to hook around Rafael’s. He looks straight ahead until he feels Rafael’s pinky curl around his and then he slowly lets out his breath and looks down at his soulmate.

Rafael is still looking straight ahead, but there’s a curve to his lips and Sonny delights in his smile.


End file.
